


old friend

by pheebalouu



Series: oneshots!!! [5]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheebalouu/pseuds/pheebalouu
Summary: i was listening to ykwim? by yot club and old friend by mitski when making this and thx 2 ash and kam 4 provoking me to write this....... :)i put a warning at the start for death but if crank! newt makes you uneasy then pls dont read!!!! please note this is my first time using ao3 lol so i hope the formatting is fine!!!!
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: oneshots!!! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944046
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	old friend

Fear.  
That was the emotion Thomas registered when the blond boy, veins crawling up his neck and face, manic eyes and black ooze seeping from his mouth, whispered the name he had given Thomas all those months ago. The second emotion Thomas registered through the ringing in his ears and the trembling of his hands, was dread, it hitting when he had to wrap his arm around Newt's waist, cradling his head as the older boy's back hit the cold stone beneath them. Thomas fumbled around for a few seconds, eyes shifting to the knife plunged in Newt's chest. He was still breathing, still alive, so Thomas held onto that, moving Newt's head into his lap, brushing the blonde strands of hair away so he could see Newt's eyes clearing, lips parted in the slightest as he took heaving breaths. Thomas shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight as he felt Newt's hand grip his wrist, stroking the side of Thomas's forearm ever so slightly. His seconds were running out, but all Thomas could register within the next few moments, were his lips on Newt's own, hands on either side of the boy's face. A kiss filled with desperation and layering months of longing, eye gazes, heart flutters, hand squeezes, nicknames. Thomas pulled back, eyes flicking back and forth between Newt's chest, rising and falling shakily, slowing. That feeling of dread hit once more. Thomas felt his hands gently drawing circles on the backs of Newt's neck and shoulders, cheeks and jawline. Rocking both himself and the boy dying in his arms, tears leaking and mixing with the black ooze that had stained Thomas's lips. The kiss, however, was more of a goodbye - was Thomas's own personal thank you. Thank you for loving him, for teaching him what friendship was. It was not only a thank you, but a vow. One to take care of everyone for him. Although, with the pride he felt in his promises to Newt, the tears didn't stop. Half of Thomas wanted to get up and run, run far away from here, from the Last City, from the looks he'd receive from Minho and the others for having killed one of the only people he could ever recall truly loving, far from WICKED and far from Newt. The other half wanting to drop dead with him right now, fully aware that there was no hope for Newt. Thomas would never realise his act of mercy had saved Newt in the long run, but of course, time was slipping, along with the light in Newt's eyes. Thomas, held onto him for dear life. "It's going to be okay, bud. It's gonna be fine." Thomas took a shaky breath, sniffing. Part of him knew Newt was well reaching gone, that Newt probably couldn't hear the lies that slipped from Thomas's own mouth. Explosions surrounded the outside of their little invisible bubble, flames dancing and mixing with the blues and blacks of the night sky. Thomas ever so gently pressed his fingers onto Newt's eyelids, slowly brushing down and letting the boy's eyes close. Thomas barely noticed Newt's breath stopping, shutting his own eyes, his body feeling paralyzed other than the hitching of his shoulders as he sobbed. Hopelessly, desperately muttering nonsense to the boy, telling him he was going to be okay, not daring to open his eyes as the swirl of anxiety in his stomach made him feel weak in the knees. He heard faint footsteps, stopping abruptly. Multiple people had come to the scene, Thomas of course not being able to pinpoint these people were his friends. But he wasn't leaving Newt - not yet at least, he just needed a minute to bask in the grief. One last shuddering breath and the feeling of cold blood against his shirt, Thomas was up, a teary eyed Brenda with the serum clutched in her hand staring right back at him. Minho on his knees beside Newt's lifeless body, Gally too standing by Brenda, his face unreadable but showed nothing good. Fry standing by Newt, not one of them making a word, not one of them needing to question - Thomas's shirt (not only with Newt's blood, but his own) and shaky hands gave enough away. Thomas, utterly disgusted with how pathetic he looked, left with one last look to Newt, his heart dropping to the floor. He turned his back to the others, running off with one more person's blood on his hand.


End file.
